


The Great Snag

by HyperKid



Category: Doctor Who, Warehouse 13
Genre: Action/Adventure, Doctor Who Crossover, Doctor Who/Warehouse 13 Crossover, Drama, Gen, Humor, TARDIS artifact, The Further Adventures of Amy And Rory, Warehouse 13 Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-03-31 05:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13968402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid
Summary: Artie Nielsen gets the ping of a lifetime. Can he snag an artifact that has eluded centuries of agents before him? Can Myka and Steve break past his obsession long enough to be able to help?And what has called Pete and Claudia to New York City with a path of strange disappearances? Can it possibly be related?And could Missy be behind everything?





	1. Early Morning Ping

**Author's Note:**

> HK: This has been hanging out in the back of my mind and on my laptop long enough for me to forget some of my original plot. 
> 
> MISSY'S INVOLVEMENT IS POTENTIAL UNTIL I ADD HER TO THE LIST OF CHARACTERS. 
> 
> So like, when I add the next chapter in about a week, when I've had time to work her into it. I have a couple of chapters waiting as a buffer, I'll post one a week and try to write enough in that week to keep the story flowing. 
> 
> Missy: Now darling, you know you're going to work me in. Who else would terrorize all of these lovely people?   
> HK: Technically in the Bill Potts arc you're becoming a hero. I could go there.   
> Missy: Yes, yes, but never not a stabby one darling. Make an effort.   
> HK: Say something nice?   
> Missy: Or nasty. I also like nasty. 
> 
> Disclaimers: I don't own Warehouse 13, Doctor Who, or anything else I happen to mention in the course of this fic. 
> 
> WARNINGS!! A little bad language?

The sun was just peeking its shining face over the horizon when the day began at the number one (and in fact, only) B&B in Univille. The dulcet songs of bluebirds began their morning chorus… and scattered in terror as a bellow rent the air. 

“Wake up, wake up, we have a ping!” The somewhat less dulcet tones of Artie Nielsen shook the foundations of Lena’s B&B. They didn’t have many close neighbours, fortunately, as when his call was not immediately answered Artie clumped up the stairs to yell again, directly at the doors of his sleeping agents. “Up and at ‘em, let’s go! Up, up, up!” 

The first door creaked open slowly to reveal Special Agent Pete Latimer, tousle haired and wearing only a baggy white shirt and pair of boxers. One hand was still rubbing sleep from his eyes as a mighty yawn tore its way from his throat. 

“What are you yellin’ about, Artie? Can’t this wait?” He asked around another yawn. 

“Yeah,” the equally drowsy voice of his partner, Myka Bering, came from across the hall as her door cracked open too. 

Like Pete, she still looked more asleep than awake, and was in fact also wearing a baggy white shirt and boxer shorts in deference to the summer heat. Something that she would most certainly regret later if the way her partner seemed to jerk himself awake had anything to do about it. She had a momentary impulse to duck back into her room and pull on her robe, but the other three doors in the hallway had already been cracked open to reveal an equally dishevelled Claudia Donovan, Steve Jinks, and the new owner of the B&B, Abigail Chow. The latter was looking rather exasperated. 

“Is there any particular reason why you’re howling like a banshee at five in the morning?” She had known the Warehouse kept odd hours when she took the job, but she was their custodian, not an agent. Artie was completely oblivious to any and all displeasure on the part of his companions. 

“We. Have. A. Ping,” he reiterated slowly, brandishing a handful of files at his agents. Claudia rolled her eyes, striding forwards to snatch all four files away from him. 

“Can. It. Wait?” she mimicked his tone, giving the sheets a vigorous shake back. Artie snatched them back again, narrowing his eyes at her. 

“No, it can’t! This is a highly dangerous artifact that I have been ~dying~ to snag since my first week on the job! No one knows when or where it’ll turn up, or how long it’ll be there, and it’s been sighted in Lawrence, Kansas. Our flight leaves in one hour, Myka, Steve, you’re coming with me.” He thrust a pair of files at the two named, and started to turn, apparently thinking that nothing else needed to be said. 

The entire rest of the crew disagreed, Myka and Claudia reaching out to grab a shoulder each and pull him back. 

“Wait, what do you mean we’re leaving in an hour?” 

“What’s the rush, Artie?” If nothing else, sleep was now the furthest thing from the minds of everyone but Abigail, who had decided to take advantage of the absence of yelling to go back to bed. Myka was clutching her file in confusion, trying her best to keep up. She was doing the best out of all of them. 

“What could possibly be so important?” 

“Yeah, we haven’t even had breakfast,” Pete pointed out grumpily as he was passed a file of his own. It was noticeably thinner than Steve and Myka’s. “You don’t need all four of us on a snag.” Claudia was already flicking through her file, though Artie barely spared them a glance. 

“You and Claudia will be going to New York, there have been some odd disappearances, followed by the deaths of senior citizens of the same name.” The two exchanged dismayed glances, but both were overruled by Steve as he took a step forwards, clutching his thick file. 

“What’s so unusual about this case that you need to get us up at the crack of dawn? Usually we wait at least until breakfast.” He watched Artie closely, looking for any hint of a lie. All he saw was frustration. 

“I will brief you on the plane, which we will miss if you aren’t both downstairs with your overnight bags in fifteen minutes.” Artie’s voice was getting quieter, in that low, strained way it did just before he lost his temper. 

Myka and Steve reacted almost on automatic, both spinning and heading straight back into their rooms at top speed. Satisfied that they were finally getting a move on, Artie turned his attention to Pete and Claudia. “Since you’re already up, you can read through your files and get out to New York by lunch time.” 

The fact that he had been the one to wake them up seemed to completely skip his mind. Pete and Claudia clearly hadn’t forgotten based on the look they shared, but it didn’t matter. Artie was already turning away, lugging his carpet bag behind him. Claudia huffed and threw her hands into the air at the injustice, but she turned to spin back into her bedroom to get dressed anyway. 

She was freshly twenty-one, and still in that blissful frame of mind where she was the Grown Up Now. More grown up than Artie, if you asked her. Pete, at the ripe old age of “definitely not pushing forty shut up”, felt sufficiently secure in himself to stick his tongue out at Artie’s back before turning back to pack his own bag. 

Unfortunately for him, at this very moment Myka re-emerged from her room with her bag (in all honesty he suspected that she permanently kept one pre-packed just for these situations; he should start doing that) and her frizzy hair in a quick ponytail, and grabbed his tongue on her way past, giving it a gentle tug by means of goodbye. 

A startled “GAMUMPTH” sound escaped his lips as Myka disappeared down the steps, but Steve gave him an odd look as he passed. Even Claudia poked her head out of her room again to see what had happened (Abigail had her pillow folded over her head), and Pete turned to her, his tongue still stuck out as far as it could go. Claudia gave him a disgusted look and went back to getting dressed and packed for the city. 

****

At least everyone else at the airport looked as tired as they did, Myka consoled herself as they waited in the check in line. As a secret service agent, she was practiced in getting up and ready for work in ten seconds flat. 

She looked almost normal, wearing a plain white dress shirt under a black suit. She had neatened her ponytail in the car whilst Steve drove, and was lacking only her usual minimal make up to show that she hadn’t woken up at her normal time. Steve was perpetually a step ahead of her in the hair department, keeping his shorn down to stubble for ease of use. He had some faint bags under his eyes, but for the most part he looked good too, in a button down blue shirt and jeans. 

They were an odd mix, Myka being stylishly professional, Steve more of a business casual, and Artie in his normal “huddled in the layers” style. Still, all three had legitimate passports, and enough experience with the airlines that none of them were slowed on the way through security. They didn’t even have to show their badges; probably for the best, as ATF and Secret Service were already a strange mix, even ignoring what Artie might have to throw into the bargain. 

When they were finally settled in their first class seats (Myka got the window seat, next to Artie and with Steve across the aisle so that both could see what the older man was up to), Artie began his low briefing. A “mysterious computer failure” by the name of Claudia had bumped all other first class passengers from the plane, but Artie kept his voice below eavesdropping range anyway as the other passengers made themselves comfortable. 

“I’ve been looking for this artifact for a verrry long time,” he began, a sort of fiery satisfaction in his tone as he flipped the rather thick file open to reveal a picture of… 

“A police box?” Myka asked, leaning over to take a look at Artie’s picture rather than opening her own file. It had been a busy morning, and she wasn’t about to take any chances of things getting away from her. “I didn’t think we had any of those left in this country.” Steve nodded, his own brows furrowing as he stretched his neck to look at the picture. 

“Weren’t they all taken down?” Both sounded very knowledgeable of this obscure piece of history, and were clearly showing off. Artie shot them each their own special annoyed look from beneath his bushy brows, his voice immediately becoming sharper. 

“If I may be allowed to continue?” He demanded. Myka and Steve shared a look, both fully aware that if Claudia were there she’d be teasing Artie about having taken the last box down himself. Artie seemed aware of it too; maybe that’s why the teams had split out this way. He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, though, and ploughed on with his briefing before his age could be brought up. “This particular police box was never actually commissioned. There’s no record of when it was made, or where, but it’s closest in appearance to the London police boxes back in the 1960s.” 

Claudia’s ghost seemed to fill the brief pause where one last straggling passenger made their way down the aisle, temporarily cutting off both conversation and Steve from view. All three heard the shade of that jaunty voice, light with teasing. 

‘And you used to hang out in them all the time when you were a young whipper snapper?’ 

None of the three mentioned it, leaning back together as the airline attendants began walking up and down the back section of the plane, getting everyone settled in. Artie cleared his throat, not least to ensure that no one started playing Claudia’s role. “On my first week in the job, MacPherson and I were sent to Cape Canaveral after this box.” He smacked the picture again, laughing wryly. “It showed up in the White House! The Oval Office! Just appeared out of nowhere, startled the poor secret service of the time half to death. 

It disappeared again before we had even received the ping, but reappeared almost immediately in Florida. We headed down right away, but the whole incident was… strange. MacPherson and I both found ourselves behaving… oddly. Walking into rooms and forgetting why we were there. Hurrying to find each other without knowing why. We thought it was the effect of the artifact; something to disturb memory. We investigated for several days, but the box vanished without a trace. And when we got back to the Warehouse, Mrs Frederick was waiting for us personally.” 

Eyebrows flew up on both sides of the old man, but neither Myka nor Steve was about to interrupt the story now. It would only slow the flow of information. Artie patted the file with a kind of grudging familiarity. “This here? This is just the tip of the iceberg. Warehouse agents have been chasing that box since long before Warehouse 13 opened. Ever since the agents began keeping records, there have been reports of this very box, always with different people, appearing all over the world. Why, when we found the remains of Warehouse 2, I looked through the old scrolls. The box had showed up there! More than once! Queen Nefertiti, married to the pharaoh Akhenaten around a hundred years after Hatshepsut reigned, even disappeared into the box!” 

Myka couldn’t suppress a shudder at the name of the “Queen Bee” pharaoh, remembering all the trouble that her hive had caused for Pete and his ex-wife. Well. Not to mention for Myka, the groom’s parents, the groom himself, and the entire bridal party. Steve glanced over with concern in his eyes, having heard the whole painful story. Even that incident couldn’t distract either agent for long from the fascinating tale Artie was spinning. 

“Time and again, throughout history, this box appears and brings disaster in its wake. Marco Polo himself delivered the box to Kublai Khan, but before the agents of the Mongol warehouse could arrive, the Khan had returned the box to its owner, an old man, and the thing disappeared.” Artie sifted through the sheets in the file, most of which were photos, and began to organise them. They appeared to show several groups of people, though the occasional figure was repeated. They were sorted generally around one man who appeared in every picture in a given stack. 

Finding the one he had been looking for, he made a triumphant noise, bringing a photograph of a dignified old man with straight white hair down to his chin, an aristocratic aspect, and a fancy suit down onto the airline table. 

“Marco Polo’s journals are in the Mongol section of the Warehouse. They allow the user to quite literally see through Polo’s eyes, to live his experiences. This man, this man here, was the alleged owner of the box.” 

Instead of opening their own files to wade through paper soup, Myka and Steve leaned in closer to get a good look at the man, and Myka sucked in a surprised breath. The picture was distinctly a photograph, and taken on the streets of London. 

A city which hadn’t existed at the time of Kublai Khan, certainly not with these kinds of gas lights. 

Artie was forging on, though, sounding somewhat regretful. “Unfortunately, we can’t know exactly what happened even with Polo’s journals; the side effects were…” he shuddered, clearly deciding not to go there. “Anyway, we know as much as we do because one particularly obsessed agent of Warehouse 12 used the journal just once to prove to his superiors that there was a connection, that the same man had been seen at wildly disparate times in history. The man… lost his identity. 

But the others took the hint, and began connecting them. So far, twelve men have all been individually identified as constants with the box. The records around the incidents are always blurred, always strange, and often lost. But there are always odd details. Anachronisms.” He sifted through the two inch thick stack of papers, pulling out one of the few written documents. 

“This was noted by the agents from the Byzantine empire, which hosted the Warehouse in the twelfth century. Now, most of their information came from spells and word of mouth, but they got word that in a small village in England, there was a great sorcerer.” Artie patted the stack of photographs next to the transcribed document; the man here had been photographed rather recently, and the camera had easily captured curly grey hair, piercing eyes, and a pair of almost independently angry eyebrows. “He appeared in the village from nowhere, and proceeded to throw a great party.” 

Myka opened her mouth to protest at this, but Steve shook his head firmly. This whole story sounded mad, but he of all people would know, not a word of it was a lie. 

“For an entire week, he turned life upside down. It was put down to artifact interference, of course, but one of the agents who worked on this case before I did was quite the fan of puzzles. He brought a tank to a duel. A modern tank. And what I suspect was an electric guitar. Before the Mongol empire!” The old man laughed bitterly, smacking the picture of the man with the back of his hand. 

“One of the only things we know about this box is that it travels in time, and it shows up the most often in the British Isles. These twelve men… Inherit it, I suppose, and take it around, bringing upheaval in their wake. I’ve almost had it twice now, and both times it’s slipped away from me. But not this time!” 

For now, the story seemed to be over, so Myka cleared her throat. It was… a little hard to know where to start. Steve had an idea. 

“What happened the last time?” For a moment, it seemed as though Artie would be diving back into the mound of photos. Myka rather hoped not, because this flight was not going to last forever, and she already had a million questions. Fortunately for her sanity Artie decided to forgo visual aids. 

“About a year after we lost it in Florida, we caught wind of it in the south of England. It was our first international case. They were opening something called the Devil’s Hump in some little village that no one had ever heard of. The box was in some secret military base called UNIT. The plan was for MacPherson and I to sneak in whilst the commander and most of the troops were out dealing with the Devil’s Hump.” 

Steve and Myka nodded silently, utterly intrigued. Artie never spoke about his own time as a warehouse agent, or about his former partner. Neither was willing to interrupt and break his flow now. 

For his part, Artie was shifting through the piles of papers, coming up with a blurry old photograph of a car that would have been vintage, even for the times depicted therein. 

A very tall man with an exuberant head of curly white hair was standing beside it, dressed to the nines in a fancy suit, ruffled shirt, and what looked a lot like an opera cape. A much smaller, slighter girl stood beside him, grinning awkwardly at the camera in a short dress and thigh high boots. She was more sweet than beautiful, with a pale bob of hair cut close around a wide, cherubic face. 

Artie smacked the picture for emphasis. “This man was a scientific advisor for UNIT, and he had the box in his lab. We were about to make our way in when we got a bigger ping.” 

Myka opened her mouth to ask what kind of ping could be ‘bigger’, what would detract from the original mission. Steve caught her eye and shook his head firmly. Artie was lost in memory. 

“That entire little town around the Devil’s Hump was completely cut off from the world by a heat barrier. And that wasn’t the worst of it. England has always been… strangely attractive to artifacts.” All three shared a joint flashback to HG Wells and her house of amazing wonders. Artie shivered at the memories compounded with the far older recollections at hand. “We picked up chatter over the radio about a giant monster with goat legs and horns, stomping across the countryside. Of course, we couldn’t get too close to UNIT. They don’t belong to any normal government. They answer to the United Nations, taking care of strange incidents.” 

“Like the Warehouse?” This time it was Steve who opened his mouth to interrupt, and Myka didn’t notice until it was two late. Both of his companions turned to face him, annoyance on Artie’s face, irritation on Myka’s, and he raised his hands at once. “Right, sorry. Please keep going.” 

Artie gave him one more second of withering glare, just to be sure he was thoroughly cowed, before reluctantly agreeing. 

“Not… unlike the Warehouse. They’re another secret group, but they are still closely connected to their national governments. You could call them… the less secret face of the Warehouse. They mostly deal with things like alien incursions.” He said it so completely casually, totally normally, that both Myka and Steve gaped. 

Endless wonder ~had~ been on the ticket, but apparently they were still capable of being surprised. Myka found her voice first this time, her brows furrowing in in shock. 

“Wait… aliens are real?” 

“And they actually visit Earth?” Of course, Jinks didn’t have to wonder if Artie was telling the truth; it was more that he was doubting reality itself. Artie looked mildly annoyed by the repeated interruptions, but less so than he had been before. After all, it was to be expected. It hadn’t come up before. 

“Yes, yes, but they’re not in our jurisdiction. I never liked UNIT anyway, they’re far too interested in coopting the things they find. As if they have no idea how dangerous they can be!” And Artie was a man who knew extremely well how dangerous unknown technologies could be. By this point, you’d think that UNIT would too. He cleared his throat importantly, fixing both of his junior agents with a stern eye. “May I go on?” 

In a fair, just world, the existence of extraterrestrial life may have been allowed more than a moment’s notice. 

However, life was not just, and they were on a very important mission. Both Steve and Myka nodded, chagrined, so he continued. 

“Anyway… We had planned to break into the facility when most of the army contingent pulled out, until we learned about the heat barrier. MacPherson thought that those incidents indicated a more powerful artifact, and that we should go down to offer our help.” Artie cleared his throat, momentarily distracted back into a snag long past. He shook his head to return to the present, neatening his files to cover the moment. 

“Anyway. We lost the opportunity, and an incident with Ada Lovelace’s journals brought us back to America. We thought that UNIT had the artifact under control, but we soon found out that they had lost it again. It’s showed up sporadically since then, never for long enough for us to track it. The last time was several years before you joined the Warehouse, Myka. I actually saw the thing with my own eyes! And I watched it disappear.” The story subsided again, but this time with a low growl which discouraged questioning. 

Even Myka didn’t dare to interrupt Artie’s silence now. And… it wasn’t as if they didn’t have briefing material to read. She caught Steve’s eye and nodded meaningfully to the bulging folder sat on the tray table in front of him. Steve groaned nearly inaudibly, but took the hint. This was clearly a deeply personal case for Artie, and it wouldn’t do any good to intrude on his thoughts now. It was only another hour until they landed, but that should be time to at least read through the few written sheets, and familiarize themselves with the faces of the twelve men. 

It was always possible that they’d see a thirteenth. Myka tried not to even think of the possibility.


	2. New York, New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving in their respective locations, the agents get down to the business of some serious snooping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HK: I am going to blame this ENTIRELY on not being able to work out how to add a chapter. Yup. Only reason I'm late.   
> Missy: That'd be more convincing if it was actually hard, dearie.   
> HK: You know usually... sometimes... okay no my note guests are never on my side.   
> Missy: You don't want me on your side, you want me bouncing around doing whatever I want.   
> HK: There is also that.   
> Missy: And cutting my way through all your lovely characters.   
> HK: Less so that bit...   
> Missy: Maybe conquering a planet or two.   
> HK: I mayhaps should have thought my guest casting through a little more you are very persuasive.   
> Missy: That's why you'll let me win in the end.   
> HK: Oh, and I refuse to pick one spelling of "artifact/artefact" until my damn spell check does, it keeps changing its mind. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I still own nothing! It's a friggin tragedy. 
> 
> WARNINGS!! Artie is cranky

Claudia and Pete were having a much more relaxed flight; in fact, Pete slept most of the time they were in the air, whilst Claudia flicked resignedly through the still, dead form of information that was the printed file.   
It was a far cry from her usual technological skies, but on the other hand, it was also available at forty thousand feet.   
The sooner they made wifi a standard on airplanes, the better as far as Claudia was concerned. Still, Pete woke up just as they were landing, and a secret service badge got them through security faster than your average bear.   
Claudia had to admit, she did like New York. It was a beautiful city, all gleaming metal and glass, sky scrapers stretching up to the limits of mankind’s ability.   
Yet even for all the modernity, the city hadn’t lost the pleasant nostalgia of the past. Stone buildings reclined gracefully alongside the steel, weathered statues still standing in their various regal postures. Claudia had a few missions of her own in mind for when the snag was over. 

“Pleeeease can we go see the Statue of Liberty? Pretty please? We’re right here!” She was still young, and she knew that Pete wouldn’t judge her harshly for wanting to do a bit of the tourist thing. Pete sighed labouredly, shaking his head. 

“Artie won’t want to foot the bill. He won’t even let us see a show!” Pete was certainly not over that particular “injustice”… even if the case involving fashion week had very quickly taken a turn not just for the worse, but for the worst, wiping all thoughts of Broadway from his mind.   
No amount of shows could have made up for it if he had lost Myka.   
He had tried advancing the argument that in light of her sacrifices and the risks to her life, Myka ~deserved~ a show. Myka had perked up a bit at the idea, but Dr Vanessa had wanted to bring her back to the Warehouse for a more… advanced physical to make sure that she really was completely recovered.   
They had been shipped all over the states and the world since, but Pete was still miffed by their inability to take part in the small pleasures of life. Of course, while Myka would stop him, Claudia clearly wouldn’t be against a little touring on the outside. The young woman bounced in her seat in the rental car, grabbing at his arm. 

“Come on… We can just take a little look? Just a peak? When we’re done the snag?” She wheedled, clearly seeing chinks in the armour. Pete wavered for a moment longer, but he knew that he really wanted to as well. A quick sigh later, he nodded, and Claudia thrust both hands into the air, squealing in excitement. 

“But!” Pete cut in quickly, raising a hand to forestall any words. “Only after we’ve snagged the artefact and sent it home. And we don’t tell Artie.” Claudia nodded, still beaming in delighted excitement, her hands clenching into fists. 

“Yes! I won’t say a single word, promise!” She was all but buzzing with excitement, and they hadn’t even started the case. Still, there was plenty to do first.   
Pete pulled into the parking basement of the hotel they were staying in, and both agents pulled themselves from the car. Pete stretched with a series of very overdramatic groans, until he caught the wicked glint in Claudia’s eyes. He raised a hand quickly, pointing a warning finger at her. 

“Don’t you say it!” He narrowed his eyes, trying to look intimidating. Claudia’s smile widened, and she opened her mouth, only for the finger to raise again. “Don’t say it or no statue!”   
Her mouth closed again, reforming into a pout. She mimed zipping her lips, and Pete nodded in satisfaction, going around to the trunk to pull out his traveling bag. Claudia followed reluctantly, as though he had just kicked her puppy.   
They slung their bags over their shoulders and went to check in. Pete rolled his shoulders one last time, sighing happily as tight muscles began to loosen. A teensy tiny wicked smile flicked onto Claudia’s lips. 

“Come on, Grandad.”   
She squeaked again and dashed towards the hotel doors, Pete in hot pursuit with his tickling fingers turned on full blast.   
**  
Once in the room, Pete flopped down on the bed and Claudia pulled open the Farnsworth. They were using hers, of course, because it was infinitely cooler. She was carrying it because Pete would never give it back.   
It was time for them to check in with the other team, make sure everyone had landed from their flights safely, find out if Artie’s eyebrows had finally escaped and eaten someone… Myka answered from the other end, still looking sleepy and a little frustrated, but not too bad. 

“Hey Claud, did you reach the city okay?” Of course, Pete’s partner and Claudia’s mentor knew they’d probably have had the tourist conversation. It didn’t matter until the missions were over either way… as long as they took pictures for her.   
Claudia grinned cheerfully, turning the Farnsworth to show Pete lying on the bed. 

“Yeah, I’m in one piece, Pete’s in several, loosely connected, groaning ones.” She stifled a giggle as he made a rude hand gesture in her general direction without looking up. Myka stifled her own on the other end, getting her professional face back on. 

“That’s great. We’re alright here too, Artie’s already out scouring the town for the box with Steve. I’m down at the police station with the security cameras. How are things over there?” If she was at all annoyed about being on camera duty, it didn’t show.   
Claudia debated taking another crack at Pete, but he wasn’t carrying a bag anymore, and the hotel room was a confined space. Time to put Serious Claudia on. 

“Not bad. We did most of the required reading before the flight, we’re just gonna freshen up in here before we go to the nursing home where the last old guy kicked it. Pete thinks that finding out when he arrived might be useful, so I’m gonna be trying to follow their footsteps and see if there’s any real connection there.”   
It was still vaguely possible within Warehouse parameters that the two events were connected; it’s not like New York had never had an age shifting artefact before. There were signs of life from Pete on the bed as he rolled himself over and sat up, pulling himself into range of the Farnsworth. The conversation was winding down, and he didn’t want to let it go without saying goodbye. 

“Stay safe out there Mykes, Artie doesn’t seem quite like himself. We don’t want any more incidents like the driving gloves.” All three agents winced; both at the reminder of the first case after Lena’s death, and the memory of what had pushed Artie over that edge. Myka broke first, rolling her eyes. 

“I know, Pete. Steve and I are keeping an eye on him, but…” Her voice softened a little, along with her expression. For just a moment, she looked vulnerable, “I’m worried about him.” Pete and Claudia were quiet for a moment, sharing her concern. Neither really knew what to say. This time it was Pete’s turn, and in a rare sensitive moment, he nodded, his voice soft. 

“Yeah, I know. We all are. So stay sharp and keep an eye on things.” The last few words were delivered in a more determined tone, the secret service agent showing through. Another rare event.   
Claudia didn’t blame him; no one was particularly enjoying the mission so far. The whole thing had a strange sort of ominous cloud hovering about it. Even Myka was getting a bad vibe, and that was normally solely Pete’s territory.   
She nodded, her expression firming up again. She was a very competent, capable agent, and even with the feeling of creeping dread in her guts, she knew that worrying about it too much would only be a distraction. She had a mission to focus on, and a more personal one besides; getting both of her teammates home alive. 

“Right. You be careful too, we’ll check in later this evening.” She nodded firmly, returning her main attention to the job in hand. Pete and Claudia nodded in return, waving a hand each to wave goodbye. 

“Right. See you then.” 

“See ya Mykes!” Claudia flicked the lid of the Farnsworth closed. They may not be directly on the mission that had Artie so unusually agitated, but she was still feeling uneasy. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that the two cases were connected. She glanced over at Pete, noting the strain at the corner of his eyes and mouth. 

“You feeling what I’m feeling?” She knew that he was the vibe master; there was every chance that what he was feeling was worse. The older man nodded, grimacing. 

“Something really bad’s going down. Maybe we should give the sight seeing a miss for now… I wanna get back to the Warehouse as soon as possible, so I can tell myself that nothing is going on.” More than anything at the moment he wanted to be sinking his teeth into Artie’s oatmeal scotchies, both cases wrapped up and tossed back in history. It was a mark of how dangerous things felt that Claudia didn’t even argue.   
******  
In Lawrence, Kansas, Steve and Artie were going around the houses. People in the town had been reporting mysterious injuries lately, small cuts and bites that they couldn’t remember getting.   
Artie was convinced that this was the beginnings of the chaos that always surrounded the mysterious box, so whilst Myka scoured various public security systems for any sign of the box, he and Steve were attempting to track the source of the bites.   
So far they had examined three people’s injuries, and all they had determined was that they didn’t quite look like animal bites. The lines were too neat, too clean, far more like injuries made by a blade than by tearing teeth. But they were so small, and some were in a very mouth-like pattern.   
Steve was continually hoping that Artie was going to spout some sort of outlandish theory, to name an artefact that might possibly be behind the odd rash of attacks, but his companion had remained taciturn and brusque. He was impatient even with the homeowners, and Steve found himself doing most of the talking to both get them in, and smooth any ruffled feathers.   
Luckily the small town of Lawrence wasn’t much bigger than Univille, and came with the added benefit of not thinking that they were all IRS goons.   
There was none of the disinterest and isolation that sometimes came with larger cities, and though the people were a little shy and unsure why the government was interested in their strange new problem, they used Artie’s credentials with the secret service rather than Steve’s ATF badge.   
As weird as it was to have the secret service involved with the problem, it was at least less worrying for the townsfolk than the bureau of alcohol, tobacco, and firearms. The idea that this was part of some new, worrying invasive species was just barely more reassuring than the idea that it was some new kind of weapon.   
Even so, Steve was getting a little tired of the whole “hello, we’re with the secret service, we’d like to talk to you about your ankles” spiel.   
It didn’t help that Artie was being distinctly unhelpful. He’d examine the injuries, muttering intelligibly to himself the entire time, and then glare at the unlucky victim and bark about the box. Steve was pretty sure that half of the town was convinced that the box had contained some sort of creature by now.   
Of course, it might help if they became worried enough to help with the search, or call Steve or Myka if they happened to see the box. He left a business card at each house for this exact reason. So far, though, no one had noticed any kind of blue box.   
It was a little odd; a police box was hardly so common a sight now as to be unnoticeable.   
It was almost as though there was something about the box which encouraged people not to see it.   
It was coming up to dinner time now, and Steve was starting to wonder if Artie intended to stay out and search all night. Lunch had been a perfunctory matter, a pair of sandwiches snatched from a gas station and eaten on the way to the home of yet another victim.   
It seemed like they had crossed the small town five times over, and he was beginning to wish that Claudia had come along; she at least could have indexed the names and organised them by location, so that all could be visited in order of proximity.   
Abruptly, Steve made an executive decision. He was driving the rental car, and out of the corner of his eye he spotted the police station that Myka had spent the day in. Twisting the wheel abruptly, the car fishtailed around the corner. Artie slammed into the door, his brows drawing down in anger as he grabbed the “oh shit” handle. 

“Why,” he growled out between his teeth, “are you tossing me around like a pea on a drum?” His voice was the same low rumble it had been all day, and for a change Steve deliberately ignored the warning there. 

“We’re going to pick up Myka and exchange information over dinner,” he said firmly, pulling into the parking lot of the police station. Artie fumed for a moment, but Steve cut him off. “We’re not going to get anywhere if we’re just running around, and if we plot the locations of the attacks and come up with a real plan, we might actually catch this box instead of just stepping over it.”   
For another moment, he thought Artie would argue, or erupt, but it seemed that the logic in his words finally cracked through that grumpy shell and Artie relaxed a little into his seat. 

“Alright,” he acknowledged gruffly, nodding his head jerkily. Something about this case had him taking it very personally, and it was keeping him from thinking straight.   
That was part of why he had brought Steve and Myka; Myka’s analytical mind and attention to detail would keep him from running over something important, and Steve’s calm could reel him in if he went too far out of control.   
Such as this exact situation.   
A little tension leeched out of Steve’s shoulders as he realised they wouldn’t be doing a recap of his last great rant series, and he nodded back. 

“Great. I’ll go get Myka, you decide where we should eat.” Not that there was a great degree of choice, but there were two or three eateries that they had passed so far.   
Steve slipped out of the car, a tiny piece in the back of his mind expecting Artie to go haring out of the parking lot at once, and headed into the small, squat building. The duty sergeant waved him through to where Myka was still sat in the surveillance room, curly hair free about her shoulders.   
She didn’t seem to be overly happy, so Steve guessed that she hadn’t gotten everywhere. Her eyes narrowed a little as she turned to the door, but softened when she saw who it was. 

“Hey, Steve, did you find anything?” She could already guess the answer; if they had actually come up with something she would have expected a phone call, not an in person visit. Steve gave her a wry smile, shaking his head. 

“Just a lot of strangeness. You?” He knew exactly what she had: any results would have been phoned in. Myka sighed, running a hand through her hair. 

“I’ve found a lot of places where the box isn’t. I’ve spoken to each shift, though, and they’ll be keeping an eye out for it. They weren’t really taking it seriously; it just seems like little accidents to them.” She could hardly blame them; Lawrence had a standing force of five, barely enough to keep the town teenagers in check.   
The idea of some kind of new epidemic of ankle biters in town was not likely to make the top of their list. Steve gave her a weary grin, holding the door open. 

“Artie and I thought we should go for dinner and compare information, maybe give our brains a rest. You hungry?” If he knew Myka, she had stayed at the station all day, and likely hadn’t had a better lunch than he and Artie had. As if to prove him right, Myka was up and out of her seat almost before he finished speaking, and half way through the door. 

“~Gladly~,” she groaned, draping her suit jacket over her shoulders as she hurried through the police station to the parking lot. “If I have to look at one more screen my eyeballs are going to melt.” 

“I know the feeling,” Steve agreed with a laugh. “I think I’ve seen more country kitchens today than in the past fifteen years.” Myka nodded with a wry smile as the pair hurried out to join Artie.   
The older man had taken his time alone in the car to cool down a little and clear his head. He even managed to give Myka a smile when they emerged from the police station. 

“I…” he began slowly, feeling his way through the sentence in front of him. “I feel I should apologise. This case has been following me my whole career, but that doesn’t mean that I should be treating either of you so badly. If the past has taught me one thing, it’s that I won’t be able to make this snag on my own. Thank you for coming with me.”   
For a long moment, both Myka and Steve were stunned; this sort of climb down usually only happened after they had an artefact in hand, when tensions were draining and adrenaline was running high. To hear it now, at the very beginning of a difficult case was oddly humbling.   
It made them feel truly appreciated, full agents and valued additions to the team.   
Myka smiled really, truly happily for the first time that day. Even the early morning faded into the background. 

“Thanks, Artie… We understand, this is a really old case. Like the pirate treasure. We’re excited to solve it too.” She gave Steve a gentle nudge, and he nodded without needing the prompt. His built in lie detector was registering nothing but the naked truth. 

“Yeah… we promise not to tell Claudia what a grumpy old man you’ve been today.” And that sly, sneaky teasing side raised its head as he started the car, abusing his position as the driver to get away with the sass.   
Artie narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to argue, and caught sight of Myka’s wide grin just as she ducked her head away in the back seat. Maybe a little teasing was called for, after the misery he had made the last fourteen hours.   
A harrumph found its way out instead, and he settled back into his car seat, glaring out of the window. 

“Just for that, you’re paying. There was a steakhouse on the main street.” But neither agent was in any doubt that those gruff tones were mostly for show. Steve made a noise of protest anyway, enjoying the more lighthearted atmosphere as Myka stifled a giggle.   
After the stress and tension that had marked the case so far, they were due a little fun before things settled down to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HK: Okay everyone, let me know what you think, if you love or hate it, guesses about what Claudia and Pete will be facing! The Doctor will be showing up in the next chapter, which SHOULD be up next week!  
> Missy: Should the hells freeze over?   
> HK: You know the faster I write the sooner you get to be in the actual story.   
> Missy: And stop corrupting the author? That doesn't seem practical.


	3. The Doctor and Potts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artie finally runs face to face with the man who has haunted his career for decades! But something just doesn't seem right. Is the Doctor really there to stop the oncoming storm? 
> 
> Meanwhile, Claudia and Pete find a break in their case! We can only hope that it's in time. 
> 
> Still no Missy. That's not gonna be much of a plot twist later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HK: Alright, I know I'm new here, but I am getting my ass kicked by formatting. I am so sorry everyone, I'm trying my best in edit!   
> Missy: They'd probably appreciate you trying your best in writing, dear. You're laaate.   
> HK: 'Tis sad but so. I got all excited when the Doctor showed up...   
> Missy: And you're not going to be excited for yours truly?   
> HK: Hey, I have a lot to go before that! I haven't forgotten this story though, I promise! It is still going!   
> Missy: Just a little less optimistically on the time front.   
> HK: A lot less. But! It's time for the plot to pick up on both fronts, though a lot of this chapter is more nerdery. And a Clue. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own some DVDs! But no actual content. I did learn that Anne Rice is apparently why we have to do these disclaimers though. She sued people. 
> 
> WARNINGS!! Computer nerding and a dramatic chase through data mining? Angry eyebrows.

In New York, Pete and Claudia had made the rounds of the nursing homes, and Claudia had been given a list of every name in the building after Pete flashed his badge. Been given them! It was a bold new world. She hacked the homes anyway, just to make sure that no one had slipped through the gaps and nothing was being hidden. She had even set up a program to run the names of the elderly against the registry of drivers licences for the city, leaving it humming away in the background.

It was likely to come up with plenty of false positives, take hours, and not reveal anything new, but if there was even the slightest chance they could get to one of these strange double-deaths before they happened, that was a risk worth taking. Now, she was digging into the pasts of the senior citizens in question. She didn’t honestly expect to find anything, but Pete was vibing like crazy and had become convinced that there was some connection between the young disappearances and the old deaths. She hummed as she worked, fingers flying across the keyboard almost too fast for eyes to follow, if she bothered to take her own from the screen.

This was what she imagined her favourite tv character, Penelope Garcia, felt like when she was hot on a case for the FBI. History, documents, social media, all flew through her screens as she cast her nets. And okay, maybe in another thirty years the social media would be a little more useful; too many of the elderly still weren’t on it, and no one had really been on it for long enough to connect a twenty year old kid with a ninety year old man. Seventy years? Not a chance. Although… Claudia frowned, something on the screen catching her attention.

One of the golden oldies had been quite active in technology in his younger years. She flicked through windows, found the corresponding missing victim. The kid had been a coder; first year programming in college. Now, he was no Claudia Donovan, but his grades were good and he was a capable enough student for eighteen. And the old man of the same name… The reference that had caught her eye was a newspaper headline. The man had been partially responsible for the development of Java.

It could be a coincidence.

She switched to the college website, and soon she was flicking through course descriptions. Seven out of eight for the first years involved Java. Her interest only growing, she went hunting for the older man’s birth certificate. It was entirely possible that the real thing was only on paper, stuffed in a record’s room somewhere that hadn’t finished going digital yet. If Claudia had her way, all of the unemployed would be busy digitizing every record everywhere, to make her life easier.

If this also conveniently solved the homelessness problem, more to the better.

But either way, there was no trace of any of the usual documents anywhere in the system, in New York or any of the other government records her sneaky little fingers could get into. The article had listed a few basic biographic details; born in some little town no one had ever heard of, no real post secondary schooling, just a gift for code that brought him to the company back in the beginning. Interesting, but it could be a coincidence.

The company’s firewalls lasted barely ten seconds against her, and she found his personnel file. Again, there was a suspicious lack of important documents. She could almost believe… a picture. She could have smacked herself. There was a picture with the article! She pulled it up next to the student ID photo from the college. The quality of the pictures was very different, one in black and white the other in colour, and there had clearly been a few years between them, but… She zoomed in on the face and spun an image sharpening program over it.

Pete poked his head around the hotel room door as the image began to come clear. He had been out making inquiries with the police about the last times the victims had variously been seen. He could fully appreciate what Claudia had been doing, but that didn’t mean he had the patience to sit still and wait. Not when there was quite literally anything else to be done. 

“How’s it coming, Claud?” He felt a tiny bit guilty; he knew that Claudia had spent almost all day on her computers, and that it was largely his fault. Even with his vibe, he wasn’t sure if it was even possible for Claudia to actually confirm and prove what he suspected. It wasn’t like the US government worked particularly hard to get all of their paperwork onto a network. Claudia raised a finger, not bothering to look up from her screen.

“Just a second…” The excitement in her voice came as something of a surprise. She might prefer cyberspace to outdoor space, but he had been expecting frustration, anger, maybe a pillow to the face for being the architect of her misery. Instead, she thrust her fists into the air, letting out an excited scream. “Yes! Got him!” Pete hurried over, all tentativeness gone as he moves to get a look at the screen. There was still a lot of difference between the angles and lighting, but it was recognizably the same man. Pete groaned, smacking himself in the forehead. 

“Pictures! Why didn’t I think of that!” In retrospect, it was the most obvious solution in the world. Claudia waved a hand dismissively, still bubbling over with her own genius. 

“Oh, most of these old guys and gals don’t have any photos that aren’t on paper until they’re well into their fifties. We got lucky with this one cuz his picture was in the paper.” It had been the first thing she’d checked, before diving into the detailed records. She could see why the news article had slipped through her first search; she had been looking for yearbooks, portraits, company photos. A scrappy little newspaper picture could have been easily overlooked. Not that it mattered, because now she had it, and now they had what they needed; a link between the missing people and the dying seniors. The agents stared at the two photographs on her screen for a long moment, and Pete blew out a slow whistle. 

“They really are the same people… At least this guy is. What about the others?” There was some chance that the pictures were of different people (seven other humans having the exact same face as you, and all), but given that the name was also exactly the same, and working in the same field… The odds went right down, low enough for Pete not to worry about them. And having proof that one guy, at least, appeared to have disappeared all the way into the past…

There was definitely something wrong. Two artefacts involving time, cropping up on the same day? Even in the same week would have been strange, but something felt very wrong here. He was vibing like crazy. Claudia groaned, her eyes falling closed for a moment as the idea of going back to her deep combing through all the others on her vanished list and cross checking against her recent death list. Abruptly another thought struck her and her eyes shot open. 

“What if some of them are still alive?” Her voice was breathless with excitement and awe, sure she had found a wedge to break this case wide open. Pete’s brow furrowed, not quite following her. 

“No, all the ones we know so far have died…” He was confused, but willing to be charitable; she had been staring at screens for hours, and had just found a vital clue after all. Claudia rolled her eyes, tapping the back of his head. 

“Not them, genius, the other victims! Plenty of people go missing in the city every day, how many are we missing? What if they moved out of town, or we didn’t catch them? And what if someone’s touched the artefact and are still alive, just really old? They could tell us what happened to them!” She was still young enough to think that it could be that easy. A witness to something as dramatic as a trip through time must know what had happened to them after all! Pete, on the other hand, was more jaded, and he worried his lower lip. 

“I dunno Claud, how would we find ‘em? If it was happening that much, we’d have been getting pings from this thing long before now.” He didn’t like being the Myka and raining on her parade, but he also reeeeally didn’t want to go around interviewing every senior citizen they could find. And, more importantly… “It’s coming up on dinner time. We should get some pizza; I always get pizza when I come to New York.” Normally he wouldn’t be putting food ahead of the case, but it had already been a long day and he was getting hungry. No agent was at their best with a growling stomach, nor was it particularly easy to take them seriously. Claudia swatted at him patiently, her full attention on the screens once more. 

“You and your stomach! It won’t take long, I’ll just set up a program to sweep the yellow pages and the DMV for people of the same name, sort by the age difference, and it’ll give us a list of somewhere to start!” Claudia did like being out in the field for a snag and tag, but this kind of problem, the kind that her skill sets were perfect to deal with… It really made her feel like part of the team.

Myka, Steve, and Pete could all do the kung fu running and chasing at least as well as she could, but ask them to sort and select from a complex dataset and all three would be at a loss. Step up Claudia Donovan, technological miracle. As her fingers began their work, she glanced over her shoulder at her older teammate, grinning. “And while the program’s running, we can go for pizza.” As expected, he brightened up at once, rising and moving over to the phone. 

“We don’t have to go anywhere, I know the best pizza delivery place in the city. You okay with meat lovers?” He glanced back at the typing young genius, and was mildly surprised when she looked up from the screen. Claudia pursed her lips, momentarily thoughtful. 

“It seems so wrong to talk about meat loving without Jinksy. I’ll have to text him later.” A wicked grin blossomed and she went back to her coding with renewed vigour. Pete laughed a little, already punching in the phone number. 

“Maybe we should bring a large pizza back for him, Artie, and Myka?” 

“With a stuffed crust,” Claudia put in gleefully. Most of the time, sexual preferences weren’t discussed at all amongst the team, given the common consensus that Pete acted far more like a stereotypical gay man than Steve did. Still, occasionally the temptation was just there, and everyone was due a little ripping. “Speaking of stuffed crusts…” Claudia looked up from her screens once more, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Were those your boxers I saw Myka wearing back at Lena’s?”

Cheeks and ears both flushing pink, Pete spun away from her to stare at the wall, phone held up to his ear. 

“I have nooo idea what you’re talking about.” Maybe in other circumstances he wouldn’t be so shy, but this was rather like being caught with his girlfriend by his little sister. And he just ~knew~ that Claudia was not simply going to let this go. True to type, Claudia laughed and hit the last few keys to set her new program to search the city. 

“They are! I knew it! Ooooh, I’m telling Jinksy all about it!” Even diving across the room, Pete didn’t manage to beat Claudia across the bed to her phone. Swiping it up with little fingers, she threw herself backwards across the mattress, Pete in hot pursuit, clutching at her arms in a desperate attempt to get the phone from her. Not all the fancy computers in all the world could have stopped Claudia’s giggles as she tried to wriggle away, Pete growling as he tried to pin her down.

Hooking both elbows over the end of the bed, the wily redhead heaved, hauling herself and the phone down to the floor on the other side, where she scuttled on hands and knees to the bathroom as Pete rolled across to the end of the bed in hot pursuit. She just barely made it, kicking the door shut in Pete’s face and spinning in time to lock it, panting for breath. Pete groaned, scrabbling futilely at the door handle. 

“Claaaaud,” he whined, hanging off the handle. “Don’t tell Jinksy, Mykes will kill me!” But he was already too late, inside the bathroom Claudia’s thumbs were already flying across the keyboards. 

“Too laaate,” she teased back, drawing out the vowel in a merry mockery of his own. “Now go order me my pizza!” The demand was met by a despairing groan from Pete as he turned and sloped away from the door. 

“I’m gonna have them put anchovies on it!” He called back in defiance, though it was closer to the baneful howl of the defeated than a vicious or triumphant riposte. Claudia didn’t even bother to look up from her phone, sat against the door inside the bathroom. 

“You hate anchovies more than I do,” she pointed out with a wicked cackle, hitting send and shutting the phone down again. Task done and now unstoppable, she unlocked the door again, grinning triumphantly over at her sulking comrade. “How long until pizza gets here? I could use a walk.” Pete huffed, not quite ready to forget the text and get the telling off he’d probably get from Myka when Steve brought it up. 

“I don’t know when your pizza gets here, you have to order it yourself.” He turned away and Claudia rolled her eyes, strolling closer to rest her chin on his shoulder. 

“Okay, grumpy guts, when’s your pizza getting here? I’ve been stuck inside aaaall day and I need to stretch my legs.” A little well placed guilt was never a bad idea, and Pete groaned reluctantly. He couldn’t deny that she had a fair point there. He had been worried she’d be angrier with him about that… He nodded grudgingly, glancing out the window. 

“About fifteen minutes… we should have time for a walk in the park.” There was nothing more either of them could do in the room after all, not while the computer was whirring away. Pete and Claudia grabbed their coats, the Farnsworth, and their phones, and headed down the street towards the gate of the park and the two statues which flanked it.

*** 

A good meal had improved the mood a lot back in Kansas, despite the occasional curious looks from other patrons and the waitresses. It wasn’t particularly unusual as they were often the most interesting strangers in any small town. The steakhouse they had ended up eating in was much more like a diner than the usual city affair, and boasted an incredible selection of homemade pies that all three knew Pete would envy, and even persuaded Artie to take a slice of butterscotch pie when Myka and Steve began raving about it. They were just about to leave the restaurant when another pair of out of towners arrived, deep in conversation.

“Alright, so these… mat things, they’re the drones, sort of? And they fetch samples for the thing underground?” A young Black woman with a strong accent asked, looking to her companion very much like a student with her teacher.

“Cybermats, yes Bill. But usually they burrow their way into power sources and such, not go around biting humans.” If the woman had a thick accent, it was nothing to the Scottish twang lacing every word from the older man’s mouth. Myka frowned, pausing to get a closer look at the man’s face. Something about his profile was familiar… but before she could say anything, she bumped into Artie’s shoulder. The man had gone completely rigid, staring at the new pair as though trying to set them on fire with his gaze.

“You!” He spluttered, pointing at the Scottish man, who turned, making both Myka and Steve’s eyes go wide. Steve’s hand flew to the Tesla he was carrying and Myka reached for her own gun, until Artie’s hands caught each of them in the gut. The Scottish man stared at them all in total astonishment, though his brows drew down in annoyance when he spotted the guns.

“Do I know you?” He asked cautiously, those voluminously bushy brows knitting above his nose. He was wearing the same deep purple velvet coat as his pictures in the file, with plain black dress pants and frilled white cuffs poking from the ends of his sleeves. His young companion was frowning curiously at the Warehouse agents as well, looking from one to the other in turn.

“Doctor? Do you know these people?” She asked with a glance towards her older friend. She was much more casually dressed, and looked for all the world like a college student in her jeans, brightly striped shirt, and blue and red jacket. The Scottish man, the Doctor, gave her a quick glance back before returning his attention to Artie, Steve, and Myka.

“No, Bill. But it seems they know me. Are you with UNIT, then?” He asked, arching a brow nearly as bushy as Artie’s own. Artie drew himself up as though this was some kind of great insult.

“No I am not! We are with the”

“The Secret Service,” Myka cut across him quickly, shooting Artie a look and jerking her head a little to indicate the fascinated patrons of the restaurant. Artie deflated at once, though the Doctor and his companion only seemed more confused.

“The Secret Service? What, don’t you guys protect the president or something?” The young woman, Bill, was frowning in puzzlement, looking between the three of them. “Are you guys the rejects? Deep cover division?” She added with a hint of a smile. Steve glanced down at himself subconsciously, but he could see where the question came from. Even Myka, who had started the day as the image of sleek professionalism, was looking decidedly worn. The Doctor was still watching Artie with suspicion, reaching into the pocket of his velvet coat to pull out a slim bill fold, much like the identification Myka and Steve carried.

“Right… Secret Service. Well if you look at this I think you’ll find that everything is in order.” He proffered the case, and Steve reached out for it as Artie fumed. His brows furrowed as he opened it, then turned it around a few times to check for any kind of markings.

“That… what… it says he’s a special advisor to the president, but it’s wrong. Like a lie on paper.” Myka snatched the little flap, opening it herself and frowning down at it.

“The seals are perfect,” she said slowly, screwing up her eyes. “But it’s not right.” The Doctor was looking at them both in surprise now.

“But you do see the seals?” He asked, almost as if he was expecting them to say no. Artie was still quietly fuming, but apparently he had reached his peak.

“Enough about that nonsense! I have been waiting a long time for this sir, and I will not be distracted! You and that box of yours,” but he was cut off again, this time by Steve as the Doctor and Bill stared at Artie in wary amazement.

“We should probably discuss this somewhere more private?” He hinted strongly, nodding to the door. Artie seized on the idea, reaching into his bag and pulling out a pair of glasses completely identical to the ones he already wore, though neither agent dared guess at what they might do.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right agent Jinks. Outside. Now.” His voice sunk lower, into a more threatening register and Bill leaned slowly towards the Doctor, not taking her eyes off the little man.

“Doctor, are you sure you don’t know them? That one looks like you ran over his cat?” She muttered from the corner of her mouth. The Doctor was still staring at Steve and Myka with undisguised curiosity, apparently stuck on his badge.

“The psychic paper is working, is it?” He asked, making all three frown and Myka glance down at the paper in her hand again.

“Psychic what?”

“Come on Doctor,” Bill said with a sigh, reaching over and catching her friend’s elbow and tugging him towards the door. “Let’s find somewhere a little less crowded to have a chat.”

 --

They wound up at the motel the Warehouse agents were staying at, Artie sat up front glaring around at the Doctor and Bill for the entire ride. Myka was stuck in the back of the car with the strange pair, ostensibly to cover them though she had to admit, she couldn’t imagine the cheerful young Bill being dangerous. Then again, with an artifact involved… The ride to the motel was almost silent, but the moment the door to Steve and Artie’s shared room had been shut and locked, Artie rounded on the Doctor again.

“I have been chasing after your wretched box for half of my life and you will not get away from me again!” He declared, pulling the tesla from its holster on Steve’s belt. The Doctor regarded the gun with a mixture of disgust and curiosity.

“Oh, guns again. You Americans and your firearms! And what does that one do?”

“It’s a tesla,” Myka explained, her own hand hovering uncertainly at her hip. Usually she would be taking her cues from Artie, but both she and Steve had already been worrying about how personally and how aggressively Artie was taking this case. This felt wrong. “It uses electrical impulses to stun or knock people out. It sometimes causes short term memory loss.” The Doctor looked marginally impressed, cheering up and clapping his hands together.

“Well, it’s an improvement on the shooty bullety lead kind. But altogether unnecessary, don’t you think?” He took a step towards Artie, who raised the gun with a growl.

“There’s no heat barrier here to distract me this time, Doctor! You won’t get away from me again…” Far from looking chastened or surprised by this declaration though, the Doctor frowned in puzzlement.

“Heat barrier?” And abruptly he cheered up, pointing both hands at Artie. “Oh! You’d be the little man from Devil’s End, won’t you! The Brigadier did mention a pair of Americans poking around. So you’re still alive then?” His tone was entirely convivial, as though Artie was an old, dear friend with whom he’d lost touch. The last question surprised every human present though, and even Bill was gaping at him in surprise.

“Doctor!” She hissed, giving him a sharp jab with her elbow. “That’s rude!” The Doctor spun to look at her, no longer even pretending to notice the tesla still pointed at him, then back to Artie.

“Is it now? You humans live barely any time at all, so I thought we might be too late. That’s good though, yes? Didn’t get cooked by the daemons?” He asked in what he apparently thought was an encouraging tone. He was just so… strange, like an erratic university professor or an especially funny uncle, Steve and Myka couldn’t decide what to make of him. Artie was the only one not trying to make sense of where the conversation had gone as he growled lowly.

“I’ve been waiting for this, Doctor. And now, I will be the one to snag your box!” It was a hard statement to make with any kind of menace. Steve had to press his lips firmly together and look away from Bill’s startled face to keep from smiling, but the Doctor looked thunderstruck.

“You mean the TARDIS? But what do you want with her?” He was completely dumbfounded by the very idea. Something seemed to occur to him then and he frowned. “This isn’t about it being in the White House is it? You can’t have one. There’s just mine.” The mention of the old case dragged a furious laugh from Artie, who jabbed a finger at the Doctor.

“You can taunt me all you want but you won’t get away from me this time! You won’t hurt the people of this town!”

“Hurt them!” The Doctor was distinctly offended now, stepping up until he was… would have been nose to nose with Artie if there hadn’t been more than a foot in height difference. He had to lean down a little to shove his face into the shorter man’s. “I’m here to save them from the cybermen! I don’t suppose you know anything about that!” Artie glowered back, entirely unabashed.

“You think we haven’t noticed that everywhere you go, disaster strikes?”

“Because I’m fighting the disasters!” The two men glowered at each other, neither willing to back down an inch. Bill looked slowly from them to Steve and Myka, both of whom looked nervous but wary.

“Is anyone gonna tell me what this is all about?” She sounded young and uncertain, but her lips were drawn up into something like a smile, but a tad more nervous. The two agents exchanged a glance, and Steve shrugged.

“We work for a secret organization collecting dangerous objects and locking them away to keep them from causing harm. Ow!” He hissed as Myka dug an arm into his side, shooting her a wounded look. Myka sent an incredulous glare back and he sighed. “Look, neither of them are lying! And they’re clearly not civilians.”

“Hey,” Bill cut in, her lips drawing down into a frown, some of the confusion leaving her face. “I am definitely a civilian! I work in a canteen!” But her irritation was short lived and the smile soon return, this time tinged with wonder and excitement. “You guys hunt down alien artefacts? Like the Men In Black?”

“Not usually alien,” Myka explained with one last resigned glare for Steve. It seemed a little too late now to argue… especially not with someone apparently in regular contact with an artefact. Steve puffed up his cheeks and blew out a long whistle.

“This could be a long explanation…”

“You wanted to tell all, you do it,” Myka retorted. “Look, we should probably sit down.” She gestured to the bed, and Bill glanced around to where Artie and the Doctor were still snarling at one another.

“Should I get the Doctor? He usually likes hearing about this kind of thing…” A long moment passed where all three contemplated the likely outcomes of stepping between the old men.

Steve summed up all of their thoughts on the matter.

“Let that be a problem for later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missy: Yaaaawn. When is someone going to get shot?   
> HK: As soon as I decide what time period it happens in~   
> Missy: Is that a spoiler?  
> HK: Only if I finish the next chapter before the new year! And if anyone reads these, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> HK: Drop me a review if you have any thoughts, complaints, interesting ideas about fusing Missy in, and if you guess what Pete and Claudia will be hunting down. I hope it was clear, but you never know with your own work, do you?


End file.
